Don't look backSomething might be gaining
by saint2sinners
Summary: In every situation there's the good the bad and the downright ugly. The good: in moderation alcahol can be fun. The bad: Hangovers can be nasty. The ugly: It could get worse...
1. Catch a wake up

Prologue: 

"Sometimes I think I know the answer to everything…Then I regain consciousness."

Malfoy's conscious mind once again grew dominant over the current dreamlike state it had occupied just as it had done for the past nineteen years of his life at varying times of the day or night. In this case however, it appeared to be early morning. 

He caught the last remnants of said dream, before they flickered into non-existence. A pair of shocked brown eyes and his face buried into the crook of a neck bordered by brown curls.

Without orders his arm tightened its hold on a firm, bare stomach. __

'Who'd I fuck this time?' 

His hand began to roam, gently exploring the stomach.

'_At least the bodies good'  
  
_

Softly and at a steady rate his foolish fingers began to wander dangerously higher up under the  hem of the cotton top…

His eyes shot open as he felt the bed disappear from under him.

He looked up from his newly acquired position on the floor to find himself staring up at the one person he despised more than Potter and Weasly...well maybe not Potter...….Granger. 

Hermione Granger

His father was going to kill him.

She seemed less dazed as her mud brown eyes began to blurringly take in her surroundings.

He could tell the moment reality registered in her mind when those three useful and powerful words left her mouth to let him know everything she felt at that moment.

"Oh God, no…"

The words spoke volumes.

Along with the full Royal marching band insisting on playing inside his head and a fuzzy numbness to his tongue, a series of memories began to flash through his befuddled brain. Memories of the previous day. Graduating from Howarts. Going drinking -*cough*- that is celebrating, with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. The three of them wandering down _'Knock Turn' alley, half plastered. Playing truth or dare. Blaise daring him to go get a few drinks from a muggle pub. A girl at the pub offering to buy him a drink. Different girl, same offer. Again. Again. Next girl… no first girl…_

That was as far as his memory got before going onto a continuous loop of females.

"Where the hell am I?" He managed to squeeze the question out from his parched, dry lips. Where ever he was it had to be in the magical community because he heard a soft, wheezing and screechy voice come from the mirror saying: "You're in the '_Leaky Cauldron'_ dear."

Still, lying on the floor he saw the two feet touch the ground and his eyes followed the motion of the hand that was in the process of reaching down to pick up the pair of blue denim jeans lying on the lonely bare hardwood floor.

Hermione stood up, quickly pulling up the jeans and was in the process of zipping it up when the voice that she dreaded most could be heard from the other side of the bed. 

"I'm only gonna ask once Granger. What the hell happened last night?"

She didn't even bother to look up to face him, opting instead to hunt for her shoes. 

Looking under the bed she found her left boot and…her bra.

Seeing her mini-backpack lying next to the door she quickly walked over to it and shoved her the black piece of fabric inside. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy stand up. She noticed her other boot lying under the window. Blending in with the small shadowed area capable of escaping the dark she almost couldn't spot it. She walked over and picked it up. Now all she had to do was find her g-string and she could leave.

She was standing on one foot trying to put on the boot, when she heard the shout.

"I said, what the FUCK happened here Mudblood!!" 

If there was one thing a Malfoy did not tolerate, it was being ignored. Especially by a mudblood bitch. 

He'd already lost control and could fell his breathing rate increase, synchronous with his heart beats. He knew he was beginning to panic and had to calm down. He wanted answers and he was going to get them.

"Figure it out." Then, not even bothering to face him Hermoine headed for the door. Forget the underwear she needed to get out of this place. 

Seeing what she was doing, Malfoy didn't hesitate to grab her backpack from its position on the bed where Hermione had left it to retrieve her boot.

Hermione followed the bags position to the stopping point of shoulder length off Malfoy's right side. Trying to find a way out of the situation Hermione's watch blurred past the bag. It was then that she noticed the bedpost behind it. 

'_Dear God. Please don't let him turn around!'_

Seeing her gaze on what he thought was the bag, Malfoy did not notice that the true object of her shocked stare was the missing black, red-trimmed g-string that hung on the bedpost just behind his head. 

Believing himself to have regained a little of the control he'd lost with the level his blood-alcohol concentration he had achieved the previous evening, he continued his interrogation.

"What happened Granger?"

Hermione looked into the icy blue eyes glaring at her over a perfectly formed nose and clenched teeth. As she heard the convicts of his words escape in a hiss her mind was still straining for a way out.

"Are you deaf mudblood!? I said -"

"I don't know! I was drunk! And would you please put on some pants!"

Malfoy looked down giving Hermione the chance she'd being hoping for. Using the reflexes -developed by having Ron steal her book bag almost daily- she snatched away her bag and turned to leave.

Malfoy, feeling flustered by her observations paused in the drawing up of his pants to mutter, loud enough to touch Hermione's ears.

"Mudblood whore…"

Hermione turned, facing him with the same venom he had used on her only hinged with a slight hinge of defensiveness.

"I am not a whore! Before last night I've never eve-"

Hermione stopped because she not only realized the enormity of her actions the previous night, but that she had just revealed that information to her once clueless enemy.

"Never what Granger? Had sex? Fucked?" A malicious smirk adorned his arrogant face. "Were you a _virgin Hermione?"_

Draco knew he should be feeling filthy at touching her but he couldn't help but believe it to have been worthwhile, if only to see the morbid horror on her face and to hold the knowledge that he had managed to hurt her more than even he had thought possible.

She could feel her eyes burning with the stinging struggle to hold back the tears that were warring to escape her eyes. She grabbed the rounded brass doorknob and swung the door open with enough force and rage to silence the prominent squeak that had been hiding in wait to be given a chance to make itself known. She swore over her shoulder, refusing to let the arrogant prat have the last word. "Screw you Malfoy!"

"Was it that good?"

Hermione slammed the door shut and not wanting to risk being seen by any of the people downstairs apparated to the safe comfort of her bedroom in her parents home.

Turning to try and find his shirt Malfoy came eye level to the bedpost for the first time that morning and greeting his vision was a black, red trim g-string panties. "Well," he said with a shrug, "trophy's a trophy." 


	2. POP! Goes the weasel

Chapter 1: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Wh: Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change. Not really. But it does. So what are we? Helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are.... You'll see what I mean.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
It's never a blur. The people were swirling and twirling around in their flaring gowns and robes of color and ebony, each undoubtedly trying to appear the most extraordinary of the casual peacocks coming out to roost in these gala events- (incomplete sentence) cloaks and capes resting unnaturally and uncomfortably on mismatched cold and lukewarm shoulders. Extraordinary but, in their vast numbers, unremarkable. Kept in place by clips, brooches, medals and clasps both the recently new and the ancient disrespected heirlooms dragged through the ages through a family line.  
  
The level of sobriety among the crème de le crème of society ranged from stone cold, to tipsy, to flat out inebriated as in any common bar to be located throughout London city.  
  
The laughter, the gossip, the whispered words. All added to the cacophony of sound provided by the chorus of cornered instruments playing in what was commonly perceived to be harmony although some debate did ring out from the neuvoue listeners who undoubtedly would have changed their opinions by morning yet furthering another inconsiqencial debate.  
  
Elaborate, over-sized chandeliers hung pristinely at intervals in the great arches that gave the ballroom a deceptive sense of vastness that it should not truly possess. Each wardrobed with a hundred fading candles, the glass and metal entities strained to separate themselves further from the common rabble of the ceiling.  
  
It was never a blur. It was a consistency of flashes. Sharp, clear, striking flashes.  
  
As they had yet to be given a more worthwhile and purposeful task to occupy their limited time- before of course their restricted lids would remove the world from their realty- his silver irises trailed the area, taking in everything they were able to reach. To his knowledge the accumulation of these so-called sophisticated people consisted of only muggles, mudbloods and muggle-loving fools.  
  
And he the only sane one among them all.  
  
This however, came as no surprise as the celebration was being held by some wealthy muggle with dealings with the British Ministry of Magic. The only reason he had even bothered to grace these fools with his presence was due to the misfortune of receiving an invitation from the Minister of magic himself, Cornileus Fudge.  
  
He already had enough difficulties in his reputation without having to insult the Minister by refusing his offer. He found, however, that thirty minutes after arriving with the Minister and his wife, Mrs. fudge - chairwoman for the local association group for bored house wives- were conversing with her socialite associates about the upcoming charity event. The Minister had retired to the shadow covered balcony with a bottle of champagne, two glasses and his latest mistress, with whom, on a previous occasion, he had had the opportunity to become rather well acquainted. Malfoy, however, had been left to wander the ballroom, knowing that social etiquette forbade his absence until being spotted by that oversized insect and recent bane of his existence, Rita Skitter, queen of the gossip columns.  
  
Circling the hall, he tried once more to spot the bejeweled, humanoid, praying mantis that was Skitter so that he could get the hell away from all these dirty-blooded imbeciles before becoming contaminated by their very disgusting, nauseating stench.  
  
Whether or not he would take the time to steal someone's date to keep him company that night was yet to be determined.  
  
He spotted a tall, tanned brunette who appeared to have some potential and began to make his way over to her. It didn't appear she had a date, and if she did the naive fool was nowhere near enough to protect his quarry from becoming just another pair of soon to be forgotten underwear, lost and forgotten on his bedroom floor.  
  
It was then, at that moment, when a small head on collision occurred, forcing him to dispel some of his fairly earned oxygen.  
  
He looked down to see had impacted him to find a small mass of brown curls. Familiar brown curls. Disturbingly familiar brown curls that he could annoyingly not quite match to a face. The diminutive figure stood up and dusted off her 'cute' green ballgown to reveal what appeared to be a small six-year of old child.  
  
She had a small frame and a slightly pointed, heart shaped face with rounded cheeks. Her chocolate brown nest of curls were long enough to reach down her back and were held out of her face with two twin green hair-clips. Each sparkly device on either side of her face, slightly above her ears.  
  
She giggled and squeaked a quick "Hi!" before turning to look behind in her original direction of origin and then dodged around him to hide between his legs and ebony cloak.  
  
Malfoy spun, and although his mouth was hung open prepared to allow his vocal cords to dance with his thoughts to produce a strain of communication, no matter how impolite, he had been shocked into silence by her behavior. He turned in time to miss seeing a pale hand reach for the child's arm and pull her away.  
  
"I'm so sorry-"  
  
Red hair. Freckles. A Weasley.  
  
Ginny gapped at the stagnant face that, until moments before, had been the friendly back of a stranger's head. Once realizing who the victim of Shyrian's inappropriate game of hide and seek was by the familiar scowl- the likes of which she had successfully managed to avoid for the past eight or nine years she could not quite create the passing pleasantry she had been so prepared to share.  
  
"Your brat daughter is as foul mannered as the rest of your rabble family, Weasley."  
  
At that moment, Ginny felt like she would have willingly sold out to You- Know-Who for Harry's ability to handle sudden, intensely bad situations. Her young companion however did not share her flaw.  
  
"Aunt Gin's not my mom. My mom's H-"  
  
The naiveté of youth, though, was a greatly underestimated pain in the rear.  
  
Shyrian was slightly puzzled as to why Aunt Gin's hand was suddenly attached to her mouth but as the red headed woman stuttered out another apology before turning to flee with her arm, Shy decided to relieve her confusion at a later stage. Right now she should rather will her feet to move before their stagnation resulted in the removal of her now mobile arm from her stationary body.  
  
Draco Malfoy watched uncomfortably as the red head disappeared into the crowd. The child could not even be seen in amongst the tall, weeded adults between them. The attractive brunette was discarded, albeit reluctantly, from his thoughts as his instincts demanded to be proven wrong. Had to be proven wrong.  
  
He wove his way around the crown, choosing to circle the great staircase rather than follow the direct path the mismatched pair had taken.  
  
As the heir to the Malfoy fortune swiftly glided past her, Rita didn't know whether to be annoyed by his ignorance of her presence or curious to that uncommon furrow that had recently inhabited his forehead. She followed.  
  
Malfoy completed his journey though the throngs of people choosing to encircle the marble staircase in time to see the young Miss Weasly hand off the child's arm to a shapely, but reserved brunette circled by a small, comfortable crowd. A crowd, which happened to include a tall, redheaded male and a bespeckeled black-haired annoyance.  
  
'Oh god.'  
  
He watched as all three of the new adults leaned in to hear Ginny's haste whispered words.  
  
'Dear Lord no.'  
  
The brunette's head immediately lifted and with wide eyes she cast her quick, inaccurate gaze around the great room, searching unsuccessfully for his form.  
  
'You can't be serious,'  
  
Without waiting another moment and before he could react he watched her take a small box out of her purse. She bent over and with a word offered a large marble, still inside the box to the disruptive child. Within another second the child and the port key had disappeared.  
  
Using her talents as a witch, and with a *pop* audible solely in his mind, the mother immediately followed.  
  
Rita swore to find out why one of the magical community's most eligible bachelors was banging his head against the side of the stair's railing.  
  
End chap 1  
  
Don't you just love kids?  
  
Quote for the day: "Eagles may soar high above the clouds but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."  
  
Be a weasel. 


	3. A row of siler balls

****

Chapter 2: 

"I violently dislike you."

Mr. Robert Tendon, Rob to friends, watched the six spherical balls floating in midair. The silver row was immobile with the exception of the two on opposite ends that would systematically be knocked away from the row by its nemesis' returning momentum.

He's nervous gaze slipped away from the silhouette blurred by the final rays of the setting sun and turned instead to face the grand mirror to his right. The elaborate golden fame stretched across the length of the room and it seemed impossible to hide from the grand device. Not that the room's other two occupants had anything to hide from.

He felt the amused gaze on his back. The unknown man had been there since he'd arrived, seated comfortably on the black leather settee placed against the rear wall, but an introduction had yet to be provided. He shifted uncomfortably in the low back chair he occupied. Like all of the furniture in the office it was pure antique elegance. Expensive elegance. He swallowed.

"According to your contract Mr. Tendon, I should have had exactly two hundred and fifty eight Demiguise pelts in my possession for over a week now. I have been contracted by an associate to provide exactly two hundred and fifty eight Demiguise pelts with which he will have exactly two hundred and fifty eight invisibility cloaks made. The reason I have asked you to attend this meeting Mr. Tendon is that not only are those two hundred and fifty eight pelts _not_ in my possession but it was brought to my attention that they have been sold to a party which, at this time, remains unknown. An explanation if you please Mr. Tendon."

He's guarded attention brought back to the silhouette still facing away from him Rob mentally stumbled over a few lies before his mouth decided to echo a reply fueled by self preservation, "I was under the impression that with your father's passing all agreements were to be made null."

"Now where on earth did you get that gem of brilliance."

The silhouette turned his head only slightly; enough to give his associate a silencing glance.

"Your contract was made with a Mr. Lucious Malfoy. You are now dealing with a Mr. Draco Lucious Malfoy. The agreement stands. What you have is the sale of contracted goods which will legally land you in Azkaban for many a month." 

Mr. Tendon glanced briefly at the newly drafted contract on the table before him. 

"Allow me to make this as monosyllabic as possible Mr. Tendon. I. Want. My. Pelts. Back. Failure to comply could lead you or your family into some easily avoidable misfortune from both _within_ the ministry as well as …shall we say…_without_."

Blaise could only envy Malfoy for the perfectly paced monologue he delivered with effortless ease. A Malfoy family trait as hereditary as the clan's silver eyes or near white hair.

"Are you thre-"

"Your eldest grandson, Brian? He recently won a scholarship to the University of the Healing Arts hasn't he Mr. Tendon?"

"Yes. Yes he has, Mr. Malfoy." He remembered the look on Brian's face when the owl came. He wouldn't see that taken away for a few extra galleons. He reached for the quill on the desk.

Malfoy smirked into his reflection relieved the meeting had gone so quickly and so well. The sun was beginning to sting his eyes. 

"There is one more thing Mr. Tendon. You other buyer. His name?"

"I swear I never heard it Mr. Malfoy. Never dealt with 'him in person."

Malfoy finally turned and his eyes immediately met Mr. Tendon's, as though he'd been watching him during the entire episode.

"But uh, but…but I don't think he was English."

"And how would you know that, never having met him Mr. Tendon."

"My…my grand daughter, Melissa, she studies birds and the like, anything with wings sir. She mentioned that the owl he'd been using was rare in the Kingdoms. Origins in the east in uh, India or the like. That's all I know about him."

__

'Azizi' A muscle in Draco's eye twitched all but naked to the naked eye.

Malfoy strode over to a cabinet and poured the good Mr. Tendon a strong fire whiskey. He handed it to the man with a predatory smile. And looked over the contract to make sure everything was in perfect order.

Rob quickly downed his whiskey, wanting to escape the office as soon as possible. "If that's all Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco picked up the glass and walked to redeposit it on the liqueur cabinet before the mirror. He still held the contract. He looked up at the man. 

"I only hope we do not have to suffer similar experiences in the future Mr. Tendon. Oh and could you please send in my secretary on your way out. Thank you Mr. Tendon. "

Rob didn't even bother with the niceties of goodbye but nearly scrambled to leave the office.

"Well that was fun. Draco _Lucious_ Malfoy. Did you change your name and no one told me?"

Draco continued to ignore Blaise's smirking face and to continued to appear to read the document. In reality he was watching the reflection of the silver balls on his desk. The reflection, which stilled completely in the mirror's silence, oblivious to the motion of their physical counter parts, upon the entrance of his secretary, Miss Anna Townsley. He handed the attractive honey blonde woman the document and told her to file it. 

The reflection was restored to motion on her exit. 

"Bollin!" 

An elderly house elf emerged from a shadowed corner of the office. He said nothing as he stood with his head bowed, waiting for his orders. 

"Give Zambini his money and then have Miss Townsley followed. She's up to something and I want to know what it is and who it's for by tomorrow."

Bollin walked over and produced a bag full of galleons for the blonde man on the settee.

Zambini grinned a fools grin at the oft-ignored house elf. He could never resist temping the old figure into anger but had never succeeded. He'd only seen him angry once and after that had sworn it wiser not to be hated by the powerful yet easily suppressed creatures. That kappa paid a sever price for attacking a young Malfoy.

"Thanks Charlie!"

Bollin turned and rolled its eyes over one of the more common annoyances in his other wise docile life. He hurried to the corner's hidden entrance. The young master had been on edge all week and Bollin deemed it wiser not to pause in his bidding.

Blaise opened that bag and looked inside. 

"Kind of much for a delivery don't you think?" He said referring to the sealed package lying beside him on the settee.

"Delivery? And that would make you what, a postman?"

"Well what would you call it. I didn't get it for you, I just got it out of the Ministry."

Blaise got up and walked to the liqueur cabinet dropping the thick envelope in front of Malfoy on the desk. 

"What is it anyway?"

"My business."

Malfoy didn't touch the folder but watched his best friend enjoy the drink. "Fifty galleons for you, fifty for our friend in the ministry."

"And the rest?"

"For a favor."

Blaise paused and turned to face Malfoy interested. Slytherin's they may be but he'd met few minds so determined in their vengeance. Draco Malfoy didn't believe in an eye for an eye but rather an eye for a head, and if possible both your balls on a silver platter. "And…?"

Malfoy grinned.

"If you don't tell me now I'm walking out that door with your damned gold." A grinning Blaise was swinging his drink in a manner that would have been described as frivolent had it not been for the lack of spillage on the black-veined marble floor. It was an old game from their childhood.

"It seems our friend Sheik Azizi has been dabbling in business that is not his again."

"Don't tell me you believed that bird crap. Of course, but I knew long before who was trying to knife me. Now I need some way of returning the favor. Preferably legal."

"I do have a friend of a friend who's in a bit of a spot."

"Oh." Malfoy could feel the thrill of the kill approaching. Blaises friends normally brought interesting results. He waited for his friend to sip his drink before he volunteered any more information.

"He's into dragon eggs. Trouble is someone slipped and now the Aurors are pushing him for he's buyer."

"Who is?"

"Not sure but the friend prefers Azkaban to naming him. I'm sure that the favor could be arranged to be returned at a later date."

"There'll be four eggs in his palace by tomorrow night."

"But he lives in Saudi Arabia."

"He's back from his trip? Then make it dawn."

Blaise replaced his glass and walked to the settee to retrieve his coat. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Too late." 

Malfoy valued Blaise for this. His father had always taught him the danger of weakness of close friends but to Blaise, they were still two teenagers believing that all the world was their playground and everyone, their toys.

Blaise paused at the door, his hand centimeters from the handle. Malfoy's entire office building had anti-apparating spells and only certain rooms had port key access.

"This is the third time the Sheik's been after you. What did you do any way."

He looked back to the white haired man. He hadn't moved. He was still leaning back in his chair with his hands gently balled in front of his mouth but Blaise had been quick enough to catch the glance to the hidden room containing, among other more valuable possessions, the silver eyed perverts '_trophies'_.

"His wife?"

Draco jerked his left eyebrow up and down.

"His _wives! _How many?_"_

"Enough. It's really his own fault. The man should really keep a closer watch at his banquets."

"But you only went to one."

"I know."

Blaise couldn't stop laughing even after he had left the building. If he ever got married, God forbid, the lucky bride would never be left alone with Draco. They may be best friends but there were somethings you should never trust another man with. They were after all slytherins.

On the corner of his desk, hidden by a vase, was a solid silver quill. It was directly blocked from all lines of sight except the one directly to it's right in the direction of the great mirror and the one from Malfoy's seat behind it's desk. Currently Malfoy was gazing in thought at the quill's reflection in the mirror. A reflection that had only reappeared when Blaise had left the room. 

"_What are you hidding from me Zambini?"_

Draco sighed. He used the crystal sphere on his desk and dismissed Townsley for the night. Certain he was alone he paused only to cast some silencing spells and the like to assure complete privacy. He pulled forward the folder and removed the file it contained.

Upon opening it the first thing greeting his eyes was the moving picture of a brown haired, laughing toddler swinging back and forth in a swing set. She was being pushed alternately by two identical redheaded males who glared at him unceasingly when she wasn't looking.

He turned to the next page and reached into his draw to pull out his reading glasses. He used his wand to pour himself another drink and settled down for a long night.

****

Name: Shyrian Lilliana Granger

Born: 2 February 1997

Current age: 7 

Mother: Hermione Granger

Father: Unknown

Occupation (Mother): Department of mysteries researcher, British Ministry Of magic

Magical Status: possible witch

Medical history: see pages i13 through i24

End chapter

Authors note: 

The day Shyrian is born is special because it is the Wiccan celebration of Imbolc (Spring Equinox) in the Northern Hemisphere. For those who don't know Imbolc is a celebration of the end to darkness and celebration of growth. 

If the first harry potter book was published in 1997 like my copy says than they **_would have_** graduated in 2003. For this child to be as old as I need her to be the story would have to set in 2009/2010 so I'm pushing the Harry Potter story line back a few years. So Shy is 7 in 2003 and has just had a birthday. As to the month she was born, if Malfoy got Granger pregnant the day after they graduated Shy is a month premature, as she should have been born in March (Hermione being fertilized in early July/late June). That's all for now. Thanks.

Quote for the day: "What's the point of being crazy if you can't have any fun?" –a beautiful mind


	4. Early riser

**Chapter 3:**

 "Life's like a small kid who hides in a closet with the sole intent to jump out and scare people"

Regardless of what time she woke, Hermione always found that it was an impossibility to leave her home at the specified time she had decided upon the previous evening. Whether her or her daughter's doing she had no idea.

"Mom! I can't find my other sock!"

Well, she had some idea but as the mother it was her responsibility to keep that thought locked away for a _few_ more years.

Still in her bathrobe hermione scurried around her bedroom assembling the day's clothes. "Did you check the washroom?"

"Yes!"

"Your cupboard?" Quickly she began to dress.

"Yes!"

"Your shoes?"

She smiled at the rare silence issuing from the vicinity of her daughter's room.

She hurried into the bathroom to brush her teeth after checking the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. She rinsed out her mounth and began to apply her makeup.

"Mom, your gonna make us late."

She rolled her eyes atr the small figure who casually strolled past the open bathroom door, fully dressed and ready for the day. "Hurry and go eat your breakfast, I left it on the kitchen table."

It was as Hermione was carefully applying the bare minimum of makeup, made nessecity by the adult popuilation, when the doorbell rang at that estranged hour in which you always believed that everyone was too busy preparing for the day to bother with their fellow neighbour let alone their fellow man. 

Again her daughter's pitched voice called out from part of the lower half of their modest home.

"Mom! Man in a dress at the door!"

Hermione cringed at Shyrian's favourite term regarding the male population of the magical community and grabbed a crocadlie clip to attempt messily pin her hair out of her facve fdor the day in a fast, ifficient manne.

Spotting her mother walking down the stairs Shyrian turned to return to her almost  finished toast and eggs in the kitchen while Hermione and her clip of determination continued to battle the untamable curl that were her hair.

In fact, it was only when she reahed the front door did, she look up with a welcoming smile which faded in comparison to the unexpected terror that reached her eyes when they met a pale, pointed, silver-eyed face that they were far to familier with.

"_Man in a dress?_ What the bloody hell are you teaching my child Granger?"

chap end.

Author's note: 

I start university for my 1st year this year so if anyone wants to know when I update this story either e-mail me or review and I'll make a list of you guys and will e-mail you preview chapters of let you know when I update.

I hope you like and would love to read any comments and questions or ideas, I even don't mind flames, I enjoy a good fight every now and then but please if you want to start a fight make sure you first have the intelligence to carry it.

Lates

Todays quote:

"I think therefore I'm bored."


End file.
